


Bear's Super Gay Drabble Collection

by immortalbears



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Compliant, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:06:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immortalbears/pseuds/immortalbears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short fics involving Anders/Fenris and M!Hawke (usually default)/Fenris. Updated as and when I write new shorts. </p><p>Perhaps someday I'll write M!Hawke/Anders and lop it in, or toss them into an OT3, but this hasn't really happened yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You drive me crazy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Fenris x Anders  
> 2\. Modern AU  
> 3\. Clubbing  
> 4\. Fenris with sensory issues at a loud place, do the math.  
> 5\. Someday I will get better at naming things. That day is not today.

 

"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! I CAN’T FUCKING HEAR YOU!!!" Fenris shouted at the top of his lungs, only to elicit a vaguely curious and mildly confused look from the mage. 

 _Bloody deaf mage can’t hear fucking worth shit,_ Fenris thought. 

"THIS IS NICE MUSIC, HUH."

 _You have shit taste in music!_  Fenris wanted to say, but shouting it out right then would just make him feel like a complete and utter tool, since the mage would most likely be unable to hear it.

And then there was all those people grinding against each other. Most of them men and women, which was just _typical_ , but even if they were men and men and women and women, Fenris would still have rolled his eyes. 

Anders took the opportunity to slide up close behind him and press his crotch against his junk… Somewhat casually, as he handed him some booze.

"HERE’S SOME ALCOHOL. YOU NEED TO RELAX."

Fenris took the drink and relaxed a little. Once he’d finished it, he set the empty cup on the table, took out his phone, and texted the mage, “I am going out for a break.”

Anders, naturally, followed him. 

At last! Blissful silence! It would have been like a choir of angels if it were not for the silence. Hence, no choir. Fenris could feel his blood pressure lowering almost instantly.

"From the look on your face, I’m guessing you’re not the clubbing sort." Anders said with a smirk. "It’s fine. I used to come here when I was younger. Had quite a few adventures, too."

Fenris snorted in what some would call a derisive manner. He cleared his throat upon realising that he was being unnecessarily rude and taking out his frustration on the mage, whom he actually did not hate so much. He managed to keep his voice levelled and controlled, in what hopefully sounded vaguely sympathetic. “It’s too loud. Too much. Too many people. I… am going home. You can enjoy yourself here if you wish to.”

"I… guess you really don’t like being with me?" Anders sounded like a sad cat.

 _Of course_  he would take it personally. Fenris rolled his eyes and wanted to push Anders against the wall. Except the two of them were standing by the curb. He sighed. “No. We should… go someplace quieter.”

"Yeah, but where? Your place isn’t that great — it’s too small — and I live with way too many people to get any privacy. Not that I wish to do  _that_ , if you don’t want to. Sex, I mean. Sex.”

Fenris looked around. He had nary a clue, that was the whole point. And they’d both spent what money they had on them on the entrance ticket to the club. 

 _Is your mind so completely and utterly empty that it needs constant stimulation to remain occupied?_  Fenris bit his tongue again, in part because it was not true, and would not be fair to the mage. He was frustrated. Frustrated about being poor. About not having a proper place. About everything, but Anders himself. “I am going to get more drinks from that convenience store. Whatever you wish to do next is up to you.”

The both of them vaguely saunted into the conbini and came back out again, with a beer each in hand.

"…So…" 

"A real nice night for an evening," Anders said, making the best impression of Aveline and Donnic on a date.

Fenris cracked up. “…Copper marigolds for the groom. Maybe a few cows. Five cows. For dowry, you understand.”

"Oh, Aveline." Anders chuckled. "…I could see you doing it, you know."

Fenris rolled his eyes. Was it just him, or were the both of them getting a tad closer? He normally didn’t like the way being close to people made his hair stand on end, but for some reason, this was different.

"If I’m doing anything that makes you uncomfortable…"

 _If you’re doing anything that makes me uncomfortable, I will fucking murder you._  That was what Fenris would have said, but that would also have ruined the mood as he went in for the kiss.


	2. It's not me, it's the alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After losing a few rounds of strip Wicked Grace, Anders realises that Fenris doesn't hate him and seeks to adjust his mindset.
> 
> 1\. Anders x Fenris  
> 2\. DA Verse

It was not as if Fenris had  _planned_  to stay by Anders’ side. He  _happened_  to be there, right after Merrill, Isabela and Hawke excused themselves for a little time out. 

"That sure was a good game." Anders commented, legs crossed so as to better hide his nether regions. 

Fenris, of course, was trying not to look. He turned to his mead, drew a long sip, and said, “Absolutely. I’d rather not think about what the rest are doing at the moment, but it looks like there is no … more reason for you to remain naked, mage.”

"Am I that much of an eyesore?" Anders frowned. 

Fenris’ eartips were red. He set the mug down, thought about it for a moment, and decided that he would rather swallow his pride and explain. “I don’t… hate you, mage. You are actually quite handsome. Even though we may not see eye-to-eye—”

"I see." Anders looked at the elf, who had lost far less of his clothes than he did due to the neutral expression which made the man so difficult to read. He cleared his throat. Fenris hadn’t drank that much, had he? "That’s certainly new to me. You hated mages—"

"Not all mages." Fenris corrected. 

"Right. Like Bethany. But you certainly did not  think of me as anything more than an abomination."

"I …suppose I should clarify." The flush on Fenris’ ears now extended to his cheeks. "It is not unheard of for people to amend their opinions, should new evidence emerge. Were you caught by the templars, I would not like to see you dead."

"And you’d still sew my mouth shut if we were to join the qun." Anders replied, his temper flaring up again. This made no sense. What was he to made of the situation if the elf did not hate him? 

"You know that neither of us would join the Qun, mage. …I mean, Anders." 

To Anders’ chagrin, his crotch responded to the way his name sounded with that deep, luscious voice. That certainly complicated things further. ”So you’re just saying it to piss me off? You enjoy pissing me off that much?” 

"Well," Fenris looked at him squarely in the eyes, a smirk on his lips. "Perhaps I enjoy seeing the way your cheeks flush up when you get indignant."

Anders reached out for the mug of mead right in front of him. “Your flirting skills need to be improved, Fenris.”

"I’ll work on it." The elf replied, and finished his own mug. He looked down at Anders’ crotch, which was only covered by his smalls. "More mead?"

Anders raised an eyebrow. Was Fenris checking him out? The temperature in the room most decidedly was rising. “I … Yes, please.” 

"I’ll get it for you, since it looks like you’ll have trouble walking with a bulge like that."

Anders was about to retort, but the elf was quick and it wasn’t long before the mage found himself watching the way the elf’s tight little ass turned not only his own head, but others’ in the tavern as well. He allowed himself a little smile. 


	3. Remember me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Dubcon/Noncon warning.  
> 2\. Morally ambiguous M!Hawke of undefined whoever x Fenris.  
> 3\. Canon slavery + Danarius throwing in the creep factor.
> 
> Please skip this "chapter" if this makes you uncomfortable.

"You’ve gone to Orlais just because some stranger asked you to, you’ve killed many people for no reason other than they tried to take your wallet from you, you’ve killed so many to protect your companions no matter how tough the fight was. Why would you give your pet elf back to Danarius?"

Hawke crumpled the letter up in his hands, knowing that he would have to write the letter to Carver when he was calmer. Were Carver there, he would have told him to sod off; the perils of leadership was not something a little boy like him would ever understand, safe and comfortable in the ranks of the Wardens as he was and sheltered all his life because he wasn’t a mage. The way Carver put it made what they shared between them seem crude, as if it was nothing more than the greatest extent of what a relationship could be between two men, and a human noble and an elven ex-slave at that.

Hawke had not “given” the elf back; he preferred to think of it as keeping options open. It was for survival. Fenris would surely understand. Both of them were practical people, after all.

Of course, after he became Viscount, the city went up in flames, so even his idea of keeping connections to the Tevinter magister came to naught. Now that there was a war, with the templars on his back, Hawke had to look through his options. He could visit Starkhaven. Sebastian Vael owed him a favour for Anders’ blood. Or perhaps he could visit Tevinter, and see what opportunities lay in wait for an accomplished mage like himself. 

Danarius’ letter came first, offering him a warm welcome in Tevinter with the best hospitality for a fellow mage. Hawke gathered the most of his valuables, stuffed all of his gems into small packs, and hired a couple of mercenaries. He wished that he had kept Anders alive then, or that Isabela and Merrill had stayed. At least that would  have made the trip less dangerous. 

Hawke had learnt the value of loyalty a tad too late, now that nobody remained by his side.

- 

"As I mentioned to you in a letter, Hawke, I am most appreciative of somebody with your talents. We Tevene pride ourselves on meritocracy, and should somebody of your capability need help, I would certainly have work for you." Danarius said, getting up from his seat. "We might be able to get you a slave of your own, but that will have to wait."

As Danarius turned his back to look at some papers, Fenris narrowed his eyes and averted his gaze. 

Hawke knew what he was doing. He was protecting Danarius. Something in him was gone. Was it his memories? He wanted to reach out to him, to apologise to him, to tell him of his regrets. 

"Ah." Danarius stroked his beard, "You are well beyond apprenticing, but if you choose to fight for me, you may just be able to make it one day into the ranks of the Magisters. With my backing, of course."

"Thank you, Danarius."

The magister waved his hands as if to say that it was just a little gesture, nothing more. “A gift for an old friend. Is that not right, my little Fenris?”

"…I apologise, Master. This is the first time I have seen our guest…" Fenris’ voice was low, his head bent. 

Hawke swallowed thickly.

"In the meantime, you may stay in one of my guest rooms." Danarius said. "This is one of our more important guests, Fenris. Escort Mister Hawke to his room, and make sure that all of his needs are taken care of. You have however long it takes, but you must return by dawn."

With that, the magister gave Hawke a wink, and Hawke tried to appear appropriately grateful.

-

"The bath will be prepared by the household slaves, sir. And …I will accompany you for however long you wish." The elf said, back straight, head lowered. Hawke knew that pose. It was the same pose he found in among elf servants. Fenris was not there to protect him — he was there to…

Realisation hit Hawke like a load of bricks.

"Fenris… I am so sorry." Hawke said, quietly, reaching out to hold the elf tightly. 

"What about, sir?" Fenris blinked. He kept impeccably still.

Hawke pressed his lips against the elf’s quickly, and then let go. “You… really don’t remember me?”

"This is the first time we’ve met, sir. Unless I’ve mistaken…" Fenris narrowed his eyes. "Master told me that it was some technical error caused by my markings. The pain of the ritual fixing it wiped my mind of all of my memories." 

 _No,_  Hawke wanted to say.  _It was Danarius that wiped away your memories._

"But enough about that." Fenris said, and began unbuttoning his tunic.

"No, I—"

"It is Master’s orders, sir. If you do not want me, Master would be very disappointed—"

Right. Hawke swallowed. It was what Danarius meant by hospitality. His heart ached as he wondered how many of the magister’s guests Fenris had to do this with, in addition to Danarius himself. 

_Perhaps Fenris would remember him if they—_

Hawke knew that he was a complete bastard, as he pulled Fenris up close to himself. 

He would become a Magister, become somebody, and rectify his mistakes.


	4. Save me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Danarius ambushed Fenris in his mansion. DA verse.
> 
> 1\. M!Hawke x Fenris.  
> 2\. Injury/death wish warning.

Fenris’ worst fear had come true. When Danarius came, it seemed inevitable - even foolish, of course, to have stayed in the very mansion that once belonged to his master. 

"Come, my little wolf." 

Fenris looked around, heart beating loudly within his chest, looking for any sign of his friends. He found that he could neither speak nor move; it was Danarius’ eyes that was doing the glowing. Of course. Blood magic.

_How did he get here?_

"You have been very naughty, my little Fenris. You’ve made your master chase you through the Free Marches. How could you bite  the very hand that fed you?" The mage said, his cold smirk revealing the intent behind the hurt tone of his voice. Once upon a time, that Fenris would even have felt guilty.

_No. This is inevitable. I should not have hoped._

_Should not have dreamed._

Hopes were beyond a slave’s station.

A tear gathered at the edge of his eye, right before his eyelids fluttered close, and he landed with a thud.

-

Fenris opened his eyes, and wondered for a moment if he did not do so, because it was so dark that he could not see anything. He tried to move, but could not. 

Of course. A familiar torture method used to disorient Danarius’ political victims. Fenris was familiar with this. The trick was to stay calm. 

_…Vishante kaffas._

_Stop feeling._

Before taking in a deep breath to calm himself, he should ascertain whether it was a sealed container, so that he knew whether or not there was enough air. 

_I am a fool._

He cursed the thoughts and clicked his tongue, drawing the air through his nostrils and blowing them out through his mouth. A trick that he practiced on his own, in his room, as he speculated all the ways that Danarius would deal with him.

The material seemed to be hollow on the other end. The smell was musty, even salty. Fish. Fenris knew that stench anywhere. He was probably being transported back to Tevinter.

_Of course it is inevitable. Who was I fooling…?_

Fenris closed his eyes. He had given himself into the idea of fighting, of bravery, of being his own man without fear.

Inevitability was merely a non-emotive word for despair.

-

The sweeping came much later. When Fenris woke again, he found that he was in Hawke’s arms, bobbing up and down. Hawke was carrying him. He still couldn’t move.

He did not believe it.

"You’re awake?" Hawke asked. "Maker, I really want to slap you."

"Why?"

"I can’t believe you fucking fought for Danarius!" 

Fenris’ eyes narrowed as he tried to think. His head hurt. “I am sorry, Hawke. I truly cannot remember what happened.”

Hawke and Anders exchanged looks.

"Blood magic," Anders replied.

"I know," Hawke sighed. "Ugh. I… I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you. You’re just a pain to fight, that’s all. Are you hurt?"

"No." Fenris said. He tried to move, again, but his entire body felt numb. "I am afraid that I cannot feel anything at all."

"Is this bad?" Hawke said, to Anders. He put Fenris down onto Anders’ cot and ran his hands over Fenris’ cheek. He frowned. "I’m sorry. We’ll have to use magic again… On you this time."

"If I truly cannot move, again, Hawke, just… slay me." Fenris said. "I will not allow Danarius to leave his mark and imprison me forever."

Hawke cupped his cheek and pressed his forehead against Fenris’. The elf realised, belatedly, when their heads parted, that there musthave been blood on his own face because Hawke’s forehead was now smeared with it.

Fenris wanted to reflect on the romantic notion of not flinching at the sight of a beloved’s blood, but this was the man who would go rummaging in wyvern excrement. Besides, Hawke was a healer and had probably seen his share of blood.

"Don’t say that. You have two healers here, and both of us are very experienced. And we know how to work with the smallest precision. Just hang in there, okay?"

Anders, by then, had changed into a clean gown. He motioned for Hawke to change his clothes, too. 

"And mage… I don’t hate you."

"Shh. You’re going to be fine. You’re a wild beast - you’re stronger than that. I’ve healed animals, too, you know?" Anders said with a half smile, and Fenris almost wished that he had the energy to get angry at the mage for making such an awful joke. "Alright. I am going to put you under. Listen… If you break Hawke’s heart…"

Fenris squinted, trying to move his head and catch sight of Hawke. He still could not move. He looked at the mage again, as the tone of his voice turned a bit softer.

"I will never forgive you."

"Still being a jealous sod, I see." Hawke said, the sarcasm in his voice masking the worry on his face. He held a goblet and put it to Fenris’ mouth, but waited to pour the liquid as the elf moved his lips to speak.

"Thank you, Hawke." Fenris said, and again there was darkness.


	5. I can't think of a good title, but both of them are in detention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karl Thekla x Anders , fluff, high school AU
> 
> Prompt from here: http://realfenris.tumblr.com/post/107672497498/breaking-the-rules-aus  
> (briefly considers writing more shorts involving school!AU kanders)

Karl Thekla had an impeccable posture - the sort of posture that suggested that one was an upright student, and all that Anders knew about him was that he was a senior who exuded an overwhelming sense of responsibility. At that moment, Karl was not looking at him. But he was interested in men, or so it seemed. Anders was one of those people who just knew from the look in their eyes. When it came to men, at least. 

"So, what are you in here for?" Anders pulled his chair up beside the senior and looked over his shoulder to see what he was doing. 

"Arson, treason and jaywalking." Karl replied sarcastically, looking up to see who had just so rudely invaded his personal space. He turned red right down to his neck. 

Well, another reason Anders knew was that Karl seemed to have a crush on him. They'd never had any opportunity to speak to each other despite making passing glances in the hall, but apparently detention was the time to do it.

"That's my kind of crime," Anders replied with a smirk. "You'd think they'd be more concerned about murder, but it was lollygagging that did the trick."

His bag had a Skyrim logo on it. While Anders may or may not have spent most of his time in the game indulging in aspects of himself that would not have been permissible in reality, he now found it helpful to have just been enough of a nerd to pay attention to dialogue within the game to chat somebody like Karl up.

Karl did, in fact, look immensely surprised at the reference to Skyrim. "Do you play video games?"

"It's 2015. Who doesn't play video games?" Anders shrugged. So, Karl was doodling instead of studying. He should have figured that the senior who looked like a model student was actually a huge nerd. Not that he disliked nerds. This one, in particularly, was quite cute, with his prematurely grey hair and low hairline. Karl was the unfortunate sort who could look like he was out of school were he not in school uniform. And Anders always looked like he was in school even though he had an ear pierced. The idea that Karl was older than he was sent tingles down his spine. He hadn't much experience with boys (though he had plenty of experience getting rejected by girls, on the other hand - there wasn't a girl in his class that he hadn't flirted with and didn't shoot him down), and now... Well, it would probably all depend, wouldn't it? 

"Well, I suppose it was wrong of me to assume. I'm Karl Thekla, year five, class A." 

Anders knew that. "You're from Class A? What are you doing in detention?" He feigned surprise. "I'm Anders, from year two, class D." D for dicks, he wanted to say.

"Well, I hadn't been able to pass in my homework for the past few days, since this new game is out."

"I'm in here because I wore a earring to class for the umpteenth time." Anders sighed and rolled his eyes, "And for 'talking back', because this is clearly Animal Farm. All because I had the temerity to ask why earrings shouldn't be worn. And they tried to take it away, but I said no, so here I am."

Karl chuckled. "You're famous in school, you know? I can't believe I got to talk to the famous rebel of Two D."

"You don't think I should tone it down?" Anders raised both eyebrows. "Maybe kowtow to the teachers a bit in hopes that they won't expel my ass?"

"It's a public school, they won't expel you." Karl replied, smirking. "They're lucky that they don't work in Crow High. The students there would probably send them home crying."

Anders had to pick up his jaw when it hit the floor. There he was, thinking that the cute As student would probably give him a lecture on the unshakable authority of the teachers and how he should have just obeyed the rules if he didn't want to get into trouble. "That's it? No lecture about how high and mighty the teachers with their unearned authority are?"

"I've seen them stereotype and punish a class D student for something I've done personally, simply because of baseless assumptions. So, no, they deserve to be challenged."

"You think so?" Anders said, suddenly gaining a newfound respect for the older student. He was going to shelve his pickup lines for later.

"You know that 'no jewelry' rule?" Karl said, smiling. He reached into his shirt and pulled out a pendant, and then put it back. "It turns out that nobody cares so long as you wear it under your shirt. Nobody has asked me about it yet, even though sometimes I 'accidentally' let it hang out."

Anders gasped. "So... An amulet of Mara."

"I have it for religious reasons." Karl replied, with a hint of a smirk suggesting that he wasn't serious. 

"I should try that someday," Anders said. He dropped his tone the way a band would drop the bass. "So... You know how in Skyrim, even two big beefy Nords could get together with that? Are you looking...?"

"For you? Perhaps I am."

It was Anders' turn to be red.


	6. Want a Sandwich?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders x Garrett Hawke. 
> 
> NSFW. Anders eats ass, there are really bad puns, and also Garrett Hawke probably has a sculpted pair when he clenches.

Spread out in front of him, Anders could not help but admire those buttocks. Those glorious cheeks jiggled and turned red as he spanked them lightly, and parted easily as he pressed his nose against the crevice, sniffing at the scent of soap. 

There was hair, of course, but what else could Anders have expected from a bear like Hawke? He leaned down to palm the small of the back reassuringly as Hawke groaned into the sheets.

"You know, there are quite a lot of benefits to…" Hawke groaned, "Coming downstairs. I could bring you buns and fill you up all you want—"

Anders could not resist smacking him lightly on the ass again. “Once I’m done here, you may return to Hightown. I’ll have my fill first.”

The beefy man chuckled, back flexing in a way that made Anders’ pants feel just a bit tighter. “Always figured you for a… Hnngh… Bottom.”

Anders cherished the moans as he dipped his tongue into the slicked hole. There was having sex, and there was making love. Who would have thought that this gruff-looking dude with a swagger would let him press his nose against it?

"Maker," He said, pinching his nose as he came up for air, "I thought my nose was a goner when you clenched your buttcheeks."

"What? I didn’t fart, did I?" Hawke said, self-consciously. "I don’t usually let just anybody eat my sandwiches, you know."

Hawke and his sandwich jokes. 

Anders rolled his eyes a little. “No, you did a good job cleaning up. The thing about your butt, though, is that it… clenches, sometimes, and when it does, I fear a little for my life.”

Hawke laughed. He rolled onto his back, and pulled Anders down on top of him. “Too bad for you, I’m now looking for a little sausage to slip between my buns.”

Anders groaned, pressing his own bulge against the soft flesh. “You are the absolute  _wurst_.”


	7. Not Another Deep Roads Expedition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrett Hawke visits Anders for some help extracting a phallic tuber. 
> 
> (NSFW, Garrett Hawke x Anders, fisting, vibrating phallic tuber.)
> 
> (Don't ever use a dildo with no base up your butt, kids.)

 

"Hawke?" Anders smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear. "What brings you here?"

Garrett flashed his winning smile - as best as he could, and grimaced a little. "Why, Daddy is here to see his favourite healer!"

"For the last time, Hawke, no matter how many times you refer to yourself as Daddy, I'm not going to call you that."

"No harm trying. How's my little apostate?"

Anders rubbed his temples. "Fine, until you came along. What's cooking?"

"Uhh..." Hawke gesticulated hesitantly, waving his hand this way and that.

Anders folded his arms and tapped his foot. When the silence got heavy and pregnant enough, Anders decided to carefully slide backwards like a mature and articulate human being, hoping that Hawke, being lost in his thoughts, would not notice his absence.

"Hey! I need you!" The bearded man gave him those puppy eyes.

Unfortunately for Anders, he also happened to have a crush on this gruff-looking man whose aesthetics involved looking like he hadn't showered for the entire week. He sighed, sat down, and crossed his legs. This patient was going to take a while.

"It's not another expedition to the Deep Roads, is it?"

"No, but you can go pretty deep in these roads."

Okay, that was something. "Well, your pallour is pale and your lips are quite drained of colour. Perhaps you'd ingested mystery meat stew from the Hanged Man during off hours?"

"I did, but all it gave me was gas." Hawke said.

"You can't be here for gas."

"I'm not." Hawke's entire face flushed right down to his neck. "Um... Please don't tell anybody."

Anders looked like he'd just won the lottery. If anything, that was going to be good. "One does not become the Lowtown Healer without a lot of discretion, Hawke. You may confide in me."

Hawke hunched a bit. "So, uh. There as an enchanted... tube from Tevinter. Isabela took it. I might have gotten it back from her."

"That thing?" Anders blinked. He vaguely remembered Fenris rambling about it during one of their card games. "Well, if Isabela took it, it can only mean two things. It's valuable, or..."

"It's not terribly valuable, at least not according to Bodahn." Hawke scratched the back of his ear.

Anders' eyes positively lit up. Hawke did seem to be in decent shape, and if anything, he was certain that it was just causing the large beefy man some sort of discomfort and mortification more than any real harm. "I heard... It vibrates."

"Yes." Hawke coughed. "I mean. It's vibrating right now. Help me, Anders. Please. I... can't take it anymore."

Come to think of it, Hawke did walk funny. Anders lifted his eyebrows. "Couldn't you just ask the elf to phase it out for you?"

"No! He'll kill me, I'm a mage, and it's Tevinter in origin! I'm not showing him my ass, especially not after making him call me 'Daddy!'"

"And it's okay to show me your ass after making me call you 'Daddy'?"

"I'm not letting him fist me, if that's what you're implying!" Hawke winced. "Oh maker... I really can't take this. I'm going to die."

Hawke did look quite weak. Being a healer, Anders was certainly not opposed to gentility and compassion, so he gestured for him to lie down on the cot. He certainly did not expect the leader of their group to rut a little against the sheets.

"That's... Don't do that."

"Sorry." Hawke whimpered like a Mabari, as Anders tugged those pants down to reveal those delicious-looking, hairy, meaty buttocks.

It would most certainly be wrong of him to take advantage of the circumstances. He was a healer. A healer had principles, one of which was to not take advantage of their patients, since it could completely destroy any trust they had in him. Nonetheless, Anders was attracted to Hawke, and there really was nothing unprofessional about putting on a pair of gloves, lubing up, and then stretching Hawke so that he would not hurt... It was all procedure.

Hawke rutted against the cot again like a mabari.

Anders decided to keep this as business-like as possible. "Please, don't do that to my cot."

"S- Sorry." Hawke let out a soft moan. "It's been vibrating in there for hours. My balls are so dry, it has become the Western Approach."

"I didn't need to know that." Anders groaned. He was going to have to have a one-on-one with his own hand later. Discreetly and professionally.

"Sorry." Hawke gripped the sides of the cot with his gauntleted fingers, and let out a loud moan as Anders' lubed fist slipped in.

Anders was concentrated on trying to locate the damned tube, which was apparently harder to grasp than he'd expected. His forehead was beaded with sweat from sheer concentration, and there was absolutely no way he could have taken advantage even if he wanted to.

"Ungh!"

Anders finally managed to grip the tube - it was still vibrating - and he was also relatively certain that his hand was still, rightly, somewhere in Garrett's rectum. Hawke was certainly in no danger of rupturing anything except his ego. Gently and carefully, he pulled it out, as Hawke let out loud, ungodly grunts from the relief of cumming all over Anders' cot.

"The maker really does have some incredibly nice bosoms, because I just saw them." Hawke commented, as he reached behind himself to check on those greased up buttocks. "Look, I'm still in one piece!"

"Andraste's knickers, Hawke...!" Anders hissed. He tossed the tube into a pail, along with his gloves.

Hawke's eyes were crossed in complete relief as he reached around for his smalls.

"That is why you want something with a flared base." Anders sighed. "How does a grown man not know how to safely masturbate?"

"Want to teach me? I'm like an open book." Hawke said, breathily. "Tonight is fine, if you can handle the fact that I'm all out of sperm."

That was a terrible idea. Anders crossed his legs and quietly willed Little Anders down. "I don't do that anymore, Hawke, no matter what you heard about my past."

Hawke batted his eyelashes and smirked. He was still lying face down on the cot, his pants around his thighs, smalls barely covering his crotch. Anders could have sworn that the man was doing that on purpose. "I like a dedicated man."

That was cringeworthy at best. Did he dare to follow his heart and believe in Hawke? As Hawke got up from the cot, wobbling ever so slightly, Anders pulled him close and gave him a slobbery yet passionate kiss.

"...If your door is open tonight..."

"Because knocking isn't revolutionary enough."

"Well, getting two toddler-sized adults greeting you from the crotch up might just ruin the mood," Anders replied, with a smile. He would make good on his promise, since Hawke invited him. But first, he was going to have a very long talk with his hand and the used cot. One thing at a time.


	8. Tainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fenris touches himself at night? 
> 
> oh, right. right after the quest, Alone.
> 
> this is mostly specific to my current playthrough of garrett hawke, who was a mix of blood mage, pro mage rights, but also somehow racked up a bunch of friendship with fenris. the distance between them is me making sense of the rivalry/friendship bar.
> 
> past danarius / fenris abuse, mentioned in somewhat graphic detail (not that graphic, but graphic enough)  
> past fenhawke  
> potential sexual abuse triggers / past non-con / flashbacks

Danarius was dead. Everything was quiet in Hightown, and there was no longer the threat of the magister returning to kill him and peel his skin off his flesh. His sister betraying him was a regret that he had not anticipated, but killing her in retaliation certainly did not count as one of them.

Turning away from the window, Fenris looked at the dying fire. He bent down, picked up a piece of firewood, and tossed it into the pit, watching as fresh embers appeared, flashing like hot stars in the dark night.

Hawke had professed to be there for him, but did he trust the man, after all of this? Certainly he could, since he was there to help him face off the threat of a magister. And yet, Hawke was a mage and a man, one who flirted with the idea of consorting with demons, and most definitely a blood mage. He had never used any of his companions' blood, but Fenris had seen him use his own. Certainly, that meant Hawke had corruption and power that no man should ever have.

He shook his head. There was too much on his mind right then. When he thought of Hawke, all he could remember was that night, memories gone cold with the passing of time, and an inevitable ache that would not go away. His first mistake was getting too close to the man. Now, he no longer felt as close as he used to; the man was not consistent in his dealings, and Fenris could not make up his mind as to whether he liked or hated him. If he could hate him, then he could also love him with a fiery passion. As it was, there was nothing but a lingering coldness, one that he had purposely nurtured in order to keep the man and his burning touch away.

He sat on the bench and drank some wine, then returned to the bed to attempt to rest. Closing his eyes, he could easily picture Hawke's body right there, beside him, and yet the image, too, faded away to be his master's, cold and dead like the memory that nestled inside him, tainted with the fresh scent of death.

(Danarius had it coming; he should have known that the monster which he wrought with his own magic would be the one that killed him. Poetic justice. But all he cared about was how he was no longer hunted, no longer in danger. No longer in torment, slave to trained instincts.)

That was the one time that he had chosen that intimacy for himself, knowing that he had a choice, knowing that he could never have gone to Hawke's mansion. He had been willing, but never had a choice in offering his body to whoever wanted it. He would have offered it to others once he was free, on his own terms and in his own time, if Hawke had not entered his life. As it was, Hawke was where it began and where it ended. He had no wish to be close to anybody ever again, or to take a chance on anybody and be reminded of how weak and fragile his own being was, how likely it would shatter should he again lose everything he that kept him going.

Memories. Was there a time when Danarius did not ruin him and make him into the anchorless killing machine with no frame of reference in his life? Could he had known love without the patronising leering and the objectifying touch that made him feel dirty beneath his skin?

The elf reached down his pants and touched himself, hoping to alleviate the ache that the memory of Hawke's touch brought. What brought bile into his throat was the sudden flashes of Danarius' hands, probing and skillful.

If only he knew back then. If he had known, he would not have been willing.

It disgusted him, how the touch made him feel. It disgusted him that he could not have said no, had not known to say no. If only somebody had told him... If only he had known that this was not right.

Fenris closed his eyes tightly, hands stopping once more. He remembered washing himself in hopes that the dirty feeling would go away, and touched himself harder and faster hoping that this feeling could help him forget the memories that it itself brought back.

It was infuriating. Danarius was dead, and yet he was still there, tainting everything that he had touched.

He closed his eyes. Right here, that spot... On his chest... Danarius used to love to cup his chest with his larger human hands. He arched his back and moaned, like he had for the old magister. Willing. "Enjoying" himself while feeling disgusted and worthless. Out of habit, he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled down his pants, showing his bare body to... nobody.

Danarius was no longer there to harm him now. Perhaps he needed to come to terms with what happened. Perhaps if he remembered it like this, he could reclaim the trauma and heal it. He knew it was a lie that he had told himself... How many times had he done this while trying to remember Hawke's touch? Some memories were never meant to go away, and they would always hurt. And yet, like a fool, he opened those wounds again and again, picking at them until they festered.

Perhaps... If he could remember Hawke right then... Instead of this filthy old man, he would have been grateful. Yet he was the one who left Hawke, not the other way around. The man seemed to have stayed on his own after his departure.

Danarius.

He climaxed with the old man's face in his mind, with a clear memory of the man's body, tall and towering above his own prone and nubile one.

Fenris rolled over to his side and closed his eyes, the lingering moisture on his hands testament to the act. There was no cleansing himself of the shame. Danarius calling him "lad", saying he was "skilled"... Rubbing the salt into his wounds, making him question what his allegiance and feelings for Hawke was. There could be no escape from the magic that tainted him and his life, and even Hawke was one of them.

He lay there for a long time, hoping that sleep would take him, but the longer he waited, the worse he felt. Tired, he got up and looked back out of the window again, watching people below scurry by, feeling invisible as was his rightful place.  
Hawke was not like one of those nobles, that would go shopping in Hightown in their furs and silks, and yet he hoped to see him again, from afar.

Would he ever be ready to talk with Hawke about ... anything?

Perhaps not.

Ghosts were always filled with regrets.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Purple Garrett Hawke x Fenris, a quiet moment in Vinmark Mountains. Hawke knows of the distance between himself and Fenris here, and tries to approach the romance in such a way that he would not let Fenris down.
> 
> This one is safe for work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During this playthrough, Fenris' rivalry bar wasn't high enough, so he eventually went over to Meredith's side. He also returned later, but it felt almost certain that they were going to fight. It would definitely have broken Hawke's heart, and Hawke would definitely have killed him. I was replaying it halfway through Legacy, and thought that it probably did cross Hawke's mind at least once that they would probably end up at each other's throats, even if both of them didn't want it to happen.
> 
> ...I am still bad at naming things.

_"This is a very bad idea, Hawke. You know how prickly he is. Like a hedgehog."_

_"Varric, trust me. What could possibly go wrong."_

_The dwarf groaned in response._

For a writer, a phrase like that simply invited trouble. For him, it was simply sarcasm. He knew that everything could go wrong. But a choice had to be made, and he was the one making it - hopefully, this time, he would be the only one bearing the consequences.

Everyone had weighed in on the matter about his affairs with the elf. Garrett, himself, was also aware that like many other things he did, it too was a terrible idea.

If only hearts listened to reason, then perhaps he would never fall for somebody like that, and vice versa. Garrett watched as the elf stood by the seals in the Vinmark prisons, watched as he examined the seals. Varric and Carver apparently decided to make themselves scarce during the break - Hawke reminded himself to buy the trusty dwarf some drinks later, when they all got out safely. He had not had a proper chance to speak privately with Fenris since that day, and while the elf certainly seemed to be avoiding all of these situations, Garrett had no desire to let this one chance go.

"Your father was a practitioner of blood magic, but chose to seal in these demons." Fenris observed, watching the desire demon from behind the barrier. He turned and sized Hawke up from the corner of his eyes. "Surely you must wish to converse with your brother. It has been a while since you last saw him, is it not?"

"Sure, just let me ask him why he wants to join the order whose sole purpose is to keep people like me locked up. Surely it'll be a great reunion topic."

Fenris turned fully to look at him from up front. Garrett felt his heart stop beating; there was something about those eyes and that face that made him, a grown man, weak in the knees. "I see. You wish to speak to me, then?"

Garrett cleared his throat. "We don't have to do anything you are not comfortable with. I just wanted to see what is going on with you. If you needed anything that I could help with, perhaps."

"I do not need anything for the moment. Danarius is dead, and everything is in the past now, Hawke." His lips trembled for a quick moment, and Hawke could feel the butterflies in his stomach flutter along with the movement of those lips. "What is more important is that these fools are after you, and we have to put an end to it."

Hawke looked at the demon, too. "I know you do not approve of blood magic."

"I do not." Fenris growled. He looked at Hawke angrily, at the scars on his arm. "I see that it is inevitable that everybody with the power to do so would not resist it."

"Not in times of desperation, no." Hawke said. "I could not have won the duel without this against the Arishok, Fenris. Would you rather have me dead?"

"No! I do not wish you dead. If I had not thought you would win, I would not have made the suggestion!" Fenris replied, agitated, then exhaled quietly. "I do not wish to argue, Hawke. I apologise. Did you not run from the Darkspawn when you left Ferelden? There are many darkspawns here. Does it... bring up bad memories?"

"Between the Darkspawn and my father using blood magic, I hardly have any time to think about Lothering." Hawke said, edging ever so closer towards Fenris, noting that he did not move away. "Thank you for your concern, though."

Fenris looked at him with a fierce determination in his face. "I would not let them get to you. Let us get moving."

"A moment won't hurt, Fenris." Hawke replied. He took out the rune that Sandal made from the red lyrium, and showed it to Fenris. "I have something that I want to give you. I gave Varric's idol to Sandal to dispose of, and this was what he made. I thought you should have it."

"Why me?" Fenris seemed surprised.  
  
"I want you to fight at your best." Hawke moved closer again. "You are a good warrior, Fenris, but if there is anybody I want to protect, it's you. Yet you are the one putting yourself between me and my enemies. And I have a lot of them."

The elf was speechless as Hawke took his hand and pressed the rune into his palm. "But Hawke, I do not know how to enchant my weapon."

"Sandal can help." Hawke moved away again, knowing that he should not do anything to the elf to drive him away again. If Fenris needed space, he would give it to him. He would give anything for the elf. Anything except his freedom and what he believed in.

"Hawke, I... I've been thinking about it, Hawke. You are a blood mage, and an apostate on the run from the templars who supported Anders' resistence from the start. It goes against all of my principles and my experiences to support mages like that, without a word. If things came down to it, would you have me use this rune against you?"

Hawke looked at him again, eyes misting over. He said, without hesitation, "Yes. If that is what you want, yes. I want you to use it on me."

Fenris stepped forward, took Hawke's arm, and put the rune into his open palm again. He pressed Hawke's open hand close firmly, like a small child making sure that an adult held onto something it deemed precious, only to hold Hawke's gloved hand with both of his own.

They looked at each other, wordless, and Hawke reached to cup Fenris' face a bit, stroking his cheek gently with his gauntleted hand.

Hawke felt as if he was standing at the edge of the world, teetering over the darkness, reaching only for the source of light in front of himself. He knew that he would never resist fighting for something greater than himself, if situations called for it. But he also knew that his heart remained here, with the very elf who thought people like himself were dangerous, and that templar supervision, even with all of the abuses, were a better alternative than them being free. His heart and his soul pulled in both different directions, leaving him a very sad little man.

"The Carta is a greater concern now, Hawke. We should not talk about this like it is a certainty. You keep the rune."

"I will enchant your weapon with it," Hawke warned, "When I find a better one."

Fenris chuckled, still holding onto his hand. "Sure."

Hawke looked at that beautiful face and melted. He wished that they could stay like that forever.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Tumblr, AU where Danarius is just a regular mage who goes to find Fenris in Kirkwall. 
> 
> Past Fenarius.
> 
> SFW, decapitation tw.

“Why did you come to Kirkwall?” Fenris’ fringe obscured his eyes. “This is no place for a mage, no matter how powerful you are.”

“I came here to see how my ‘little wolf’ is doing.” Danarius said, blue eyes twinkling with a hint of promise.

Fenris snorted and turned away. He was safe in Kirkwall; the blood mages there would be apprehended and served with justice. If Danarius tried to do anything to him, he would get his due. “Your 'little wolf’ does not wish to see you. Leave me be.”

“When we parted, Fenris, it was because I was apprehended by the templars. But no more. I am more powerful than I have ever been, and my phylactery is destroyed. Come with me, Fenris.”

“Let me know why I should not immediately report you to the templars, perhaps.” Fenris replied, shaking the mage’s grip on his arm away. He hated being touched without his permission, and now that Danarius was no longer his lover, he felt completely justified in doing so.

“I’ve changed, Fenris.” Danarius’ voice trembled ever so slightly. “You wouldn’t want to see me locked up for life.”

Fenris did not understand why he felt touched as he carefully studied the face of the old man, whose eyes were sunken and his skin etched with deep lines. Danarius seemed older than he had remembered him to be. He looked at him quietly for a moment, before saying, “The years of damage that you’ve wrought on my very soul cannot be undone, and neither can you ever undo the taint of blood magic that is inside you. Leave me be.”

“I will make it up for you, if you’d come with me once again…”

Once upon a time, Fenris would have done anything to get a promise and an apology like that from Danarius. Instead, he leapt at the mage and reached for his blade, tackling him onto the floor. Taken by surprise, Danarius had no time to prepare his spell. Like a butcher, Fenris pressed the blade downwards with his body weight, stopping only when there was a satisfying crunch of blade hitting bone.

His face was painted with blood as he lifted it. He spat, “You think I’m not prepared to kill you? Think again. You deserve worse for what you’ve done to me. Every day and night, I stay awake thinking about how it would be if you did not appear in my life and tainted me with your poisonous touch, if you had not appeared when I was at my most vulnerable and taken advantage of it.”

The body went limp quickly. Danarius was no longer listening, but Fenris pulled his sword away, causing the blood to spray further.

He got up, and walked away.


End file.
